


Epithalamion

by Mouibon



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (kind of), Amateur Author! Kindaichi, Amateur Poet! Kunimi, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Kindaichi is also a huge sap, Kunimi Akira: a sap for Kindaichi (and won’t admit it out loud), M/M, Marriage Proposal, T because cursing and they get real heated at the end, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:27:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21787495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mouibon/pseuds/Mouibon
Summary: A fanfic in where Kunimi and Kindaichi love each other, have a domestic life, and have to finish up writing about what makes them happy for contests. Unfortunately, Kunimi doesn’t have any inspiration. So he takes to reading Kindaichi’s writing instead, and finds out just how much Kindaichi loves him.OrThe author’s fic for the holy day: Kinkuni day. Hopefully, it is enough.
Relationships: Kindaichi Yuutarou/Kunimi Akira
Comments: 12
Kudos: 63





	Epithalamion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fliick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fliick/gifts).



> I love these boys. Also, I’m not sure how to feel about this fic. OOC, but at the same time...it's Kinkuni?
> 
> Also, I promise I finished this fic yesterday, on Kinkuni day! It's just that bedtime exists, unfortunately, and it takes a LONG time for me to deal with Ao3's formatting so it's posted a day late. Sincerest apologies to the Kinkuni gods hahahahah
> 
> Also, a gift to fliick, because god damn their Kinkuni fic is the literal best. Hopefully this isn't weird? I mean, we're not friends, but I just really appreciated their Kinkuni fic (and their other fics as well, which are also the bomb) so if you're reading this fliick...Hope you enjoy?

Kunimi woke up with his face planted into a firm back, one that smelt of the cheap laundry detergent and coffee.

He groaned, unsticking his mouth from Kindaichi’s shirt. Kunimi tried to make his tossing and turning quiet so that he could sleep more—Kindaichi was the lightest sleeper on the planet—and wrapped his arms around Kindaichi’s shoulders as steadily and as gently as humanly possible.

So far, so good. Kunimi moved so his mouth was on Kindaichi’s neck instead of his shirt. Much better.

It was a miracle how Kindaichi hadn’t woke yet. All Kunimi had to do, most of the time, was move his foot, and Kindaichi would be waking up. Like a morning person. Somehow.

How did morning people wake up in the morning? Kunimi wanted to sleep through the entire week most of the time.

Ah, his human furnace of a boyfriend was the best.Kunimi breathed in the heat, and wrapped his arms around Kindaichi even tighter. He was aware that he looked like a baby holding his teddy bear, but he didn’t give a damn. Kindaichi was warm (good) and everything else but the pillow and blankets was cold (bad). Therefore, it wasn’t idiotic to hold on to his boyfriend so tight; it was logical to hold on to something warm when one is cold, after all.

For a while, Kunimi breathed in and out. The sun was shining through a huge, high up window, and the clock read 9:21. _'Yuutarou would be so unhappy to wake up at 9:20,'_ Kunimi thought. To Kindaichi, that was late. To Kunimi, that was early.

He readjusted his arms, one of his hands brushing over Kindaichi’s cheekbone. Kunimi got some idiotic, vague sense of warmth from knowing that cheekbone—like every other part of Kindaichi—belonged to him and him alone. Only Kunimi would get to wake up in the morning and get to hug Kindaichi to get warmth, or get to enjoy breakfast in bed made by Kindaichi, or get Kindaichi to stop his sudden nightly inspiration bursts and sleep.

Now that he thought about it, he remembered having to drag Kindaichi away from the computer at eleven in the evening yesterday, and having to convince him to sleep because _'You'll get the novel done without losing sleep, Yuutarou.'_ Kunimi had to restrain him too. Kindaichi was a (amateur) author who did not get inspiration except ridiculously late at night, and Kunimi had to convince him to sleep most days.

It took much more effort than needed. Kunimi wouldn’t want to take up more energy than needed most of the time—with any other person but Kindaichi, Kunimi would have left them—but it helped that the end result was sleep and Kindaichi being a calm, reasonable human being again. Win-win for both of them.

Besides, Kunimi took much more energy than needed by loving—and somewhat quietly obsessing over—Kindaichi the extreme way he did. He did spend this entire morning thinking about him, after all. At this point, it was go big or go home with the energy spent on Kindaichi.

Not that it was a burden. Loving him. It was energy well spent, if there _was_ such a thing.

A sense of quiet warmth settled in him, and he took his finger to brush it over the soft curve of Kindaichi’s cheek. He could feel the slight bumps that acne scars had made, as well as the smooth skin in the place where the cheekbone met the nose—

Kindaichi yawned, and Kunimi could only think a quiet, blunt _'well, shit'_ before his human heater stood up from the bed and smiled. Probably. Kunimi didn’t see Kindaichi’s face, but he knew that Kindaichi was the one percent of the population that  liked waking up.

“Go back to bed.”

“Akira? You’re awake?” Kindaichi was already stretching—revealing an inch of skin that Kunimi did  _not _observe, thank you very much—and he sat down on the bed again. He glanced over at the clock. “It’s 9:43? How did I wake up that late?”

Kunimi pulled the wool blanket over Kindaichi’s frame. Kindaichi threw it off and put it over Kunimi—a practiced move over the years. “Akira, this is early for you. How did you wake up this early?”

“I just did.”

“Well, I woke up late, so I guess that’s two miracles.” Kindaichi then laughed—not out of hilarity, but because he wanted to laugh. Which was good.

Kindaichi laughed a lot, and the laugh sounded like any normal laugh. But it was enhanced—somehow—by the fact that Kunimi was in love, and he was in love _deep._ For a few years. It was annoying. Or not. It depended.

“Go back to sleep.” Kunimi pulled the blanket onto Kindaichi again. Ah, he could feel their regular ‘morning-talk-about-sleep’ conversation coming. One. Two. Three.“You didn’t sleep until eleven.”

“I feel pretty good, so no.” Kindaichi pulled the blankets off, and Kunimi gave up on the blanket, instead getting a pillow for Kindaichi. “And you are plenty warm in those blankets.”

Yes, Kunimi had multiple blankets. To be fair, his skin was ice cold, and it was made worse by December being a cold bitch. But he didn’t care. He didn’t care that he had many blankets. Kindaichi was warm, and maybe Kunimi was delirious from waking up, but he just wanted Kindaichi more than he usually did today. “Just lay your head down.”

“I know what you’re doing, Akira.”

Kunimi pointed to the pillow, his eyes closed in sleep. Kindaichi knew to not disrupt him. “Akira, we have to write our stuff. For the contests we signed up for? Your poem? My story?”

“That can wait.”

“We’ve been procrastinating on them all last month. We have to mail them today!” Kindaichi did that ‘thing’ where he ‘panicked’, but not really. It was like the feeling where a person knew they had homework, but they still spent an entire day doing nothing but watch movies and YouTube. Kunimi would know. He had done that many times before, and Kindaichi saved his ass, because  of course  Kindaichi _had_ to be in Class 5 for all of high school. “Come on. I’ll make breakfast in bed, and we’ll eat here, alright?”

(Breakfast in bed should be abbreviated to ‘breakfast’, if only because they had breakfast in bed every single day.)

Breakfast was tempting. But Kunimi wanted to sleep more. Preferably with Kindaichi. ‘Preferably’ was a useless word here though; Kunimi knew he would win this conversation before it even began. “Do it later.”

“Please, Akira?” Kindaichi leaned his face close, hand in Kunimi’s hair. It didn’t make Kunimi as nervous as it used to, but it did make him turn his face into the pillow.

“Just five minutes.” A pause. “Please, Yuutarou.”

“It always is ‘just five minutes’.” Kindaichi said, in fond, joking exasperation, already going to lay his head down on a pillow. Kunimi pulled the blanket onto Kindaichi, who put it back on Kunimi. “Akira, you’re still cold. I don’t need it.”

And then Kindaichi hugged him, his skin as warm as a fireplace, and Kunimi allowed himself a moment of peace.

At least until Kindaichi would inevitably have to leave him cold again.

—————

Kindaichi whistled as he made eggs, getting some bread to also make sandwiches. All of this was done as he also put in a few sentences for his story, which was on his phone. Why did he do it on his phone? One can’t procrastinate on their phone if their work  is on their phone.

He flipped the eggs, and went over to the phone on the counter. He typed in _'and it has been five years'_ before going back to the eggs.

Eventually, he got done with the sandwiches and eggs (and done two paragraphs on his story for the contest!). He put everything on the breakfast tray he and Kunimi got a while ago—they had kept forgetting to get one until a few months ago—and was about to leave the kitchen. Then, a stray thought came to his mind. _'What if you got a salted caramel for Akira?'_

He shook his head. Nope, he was going to keep his streak of  not getting Kunimi salted caramel. Kunimi ate it way too much to be healthy, and Kindaichi could only feed this addiction.

His feet were glued to the ground though. And now that the thought came up, Kindaichi couldn’t stop it from burrowing itself in his brain. _'Just open the fridge.'_

He stood there for a full minute, fighting his instinct to do nice things for other people, and especially Kunimi. Then the refrigerator door flew open, he grabbed a piece of salted caramel, and put it on the breakfast tray. Before he could think, he got the breakfast tray over to their room.

Kunimi was still asleep, in a burrow of thick, wool blankets and pillows. December, after all, was _'the worst thing that had ever been invented.'_ Kunimi’s words, not his.

Kindaichi took a moment to admire Akira’s skin, and hair, and how both were so smooth and glossy at this time of morning. It almost made him frustrated, how Akira managed to be so photogenic when asleep.

He put the tray down, and went to poke at Kunimi’s shoulder. Which was a bad idea. Kindaichi would never understand how Kunimi’s skin could be so cold all the time. “Akira. Akira. Wake up.”

There was a groan, and then a “Hmm?” 

“Come on. Get up. I made eggs.”

“Hmm?” Kunimi was awake—that was for sure—but still in the delirious stage of waking up. “Where am I?”

“Our house, Akira. Remember?” Kindaichi laughed a little when Kunimi stilled, and then relaxed. Kunimi’s memories did  not catch up with his mind when waking up.

“Our house?” Kunimi talked in a soft voice, untangling himself from the blankets. Not to get himself out of them, but so that he could sleep in a better position. “Did we get married or something?”

“No!” Kindaichi’s thoughts ran wild. _‘Don’t think about the ring in the shoe box, don’t think about the ring in the shoe box, don’t think about the ring in the shoe box—‘_

“Oh. I remember now.” Kunimi finished arranging his blankets, now with his arms and legs fully wrapped.

“Now that you remember, could you at least sit upright? I made breakfast.” Kindaichi sat at the very edge of the bed, almost bumping his knee into the bedside table. “Please. I worked hard on it.”

Kunimi groaned again. But he obeyed, though Kindaichi had to help get him upright, and had to adjust the pillow and Kunimi’s body to be vertical. This was a regular routine. “Here, Akira.”

“...Thanks.” Kunimi took the breakfast tray Kindaichi offered, and began eating the eggs on his side. 

Kindaichi watched as Kunimi’s eyelashes, so delicate and beautiful, kept fluttering as he went between the world of dreams and the world of the living.

Ah, it was so pretty. Kunimi was pretty. Actually, Kunimi could probably kill a man and it would be pretty.

“What are you looking at?” Kindaichi got scared out of his wits. Kunimi was staring, and Jesus  _Christ _Kindaichi should have gotten used to Kunimi  _years _ago —“Yuutarou?”

“Nothing, nothing!” Kindaichi had to look away cause  holy _shit_ Kunimi had to call him out like that. His cheeks burned, and _oh_ _ no _Kunimi was smiling too. Kunimi was probably thinking about how much Kindaichi had not changed in five years. “Sorr—“

Then Kindaichi realized how the word ‘sorry’ had been banned, because _'Yuutarou, you should be actually sorry when saying sorry.'_ “ I just got lost in thought, Akira.”

Kunimi looked at him with a twinkle in his eyes—he was not smiling but Kindaichi could tell what he was thinking—and went back to his breakfast. “Okay.”

Kindaichi went to eating breakfast, every once in a while talking to fill the air. Kunimi, with anyone else, would have hated needless talking—Kindaichi knew that for a fact—but Kunimi nodded along with Kindaichi. He frowned when Kindaichi noted how terrible Friday was for him—office work just  had to be terrible yesterday—and nodded or shook his head when asked questions. Kunimi did all of this with his head on Kindaichi’s shoulder, a nice, warm pressure. It was a quiet atmosphere. A peaceful one, at that. 

“Akira, we have to get our stories done  today.”

“I‘m a poet, Yuutarou.”

“ _My_ story, and  _your _poem, then.”

“It’s too hard.”

“Come on, Akira.” Kindaichi scooted his body closer. “How hard can it be to write about something you like? And for a contest too. Depression’s not hurting you again, is it?”

“No.” Kunimi shook his head at Kindaichi, who had a worried face. “But do I look like the kind of person that writes happy things?”

“...No.” Even Kindaichi had to admit that Kunimi was not a naturally happy person.

“Exactly.” Kunimi then found the salted caramel at the bottom of his empty plate, and immediately threw it in his mouth. As thanks, he took to holding Kindaichi’s hand. “Why did you even sign me up for the contest anyway?”

“It’s a challenge!”

“Who likes challenges?”

“Me!”

“...You’re weird.” Kunimi’s head was still on Kindaichi’s shoulder, but it was at an odd angle. Kindaichi repositioned it. “You’re not even done for  your contest. Hypocrite.”

“Hey! I at least did a few paragraphs!” When Kunimi started snickering—or rather, trying to  stop himself from snickering—Kindaichi pouted. “Personal stuff is really hard to write!”

“You like writing about happy things. Why is it so hard?”

“I don’t know. I guess the thing I’m writing about is a bit personal? And I want to do it well?” Kindaichi rubbed the back of his head.  ”I don’t know! It’s just embarrassing!”

“You wrote paragraphs about the way you love grilled corn. You fucking turned that in.”

“That was one time, Akira!” When Kunimi started smiling, Kindaichi found that he couldn’t stay mad. “And you understand what I mean by personal.”

“I know.” Going back to his neutral expression, Kunimi sipped at his tea, looking like a mouse nibbling on cheese.

“By the way, have you come up with a idea yet?”

“No.”

“Akira...”

“I know. But I can’t write about the things that make me happy.” Kunimi sipped at his tea. Kunimi’s thumb ran over Kindaichi’s fist, an action that made Kindaichi overflow with love. It was a silent thanks, a silent ‘you did well’. At making tea, that is. “It’s embarrassing.”

“You can write about how much you love sleep! Or maybe candy?”

“Again, _embarrassing."_

“Well, I can’t think of anything else. So, good luck on it?” Kindaichi patted Kunimi’s hair, and did  _not _die when Kunimi leaned into the touch. 

Kunimi then looked at him, very pointedly, as if Kindaichi was supposed to get something. “What?”

“It almost offends me, how you didn’t include yourself.”

“Eh?!”

Kunimi sighed, and brushed his lips over Kindaichi’s. Kindaichi became even  more confused than ever. “Never mind. Could you take away the tray?”

“S-sure!” Kindaichi took the tray, and Kunimi threw himself into the blankets yet again. 

Kindaichi had to pretend that he didn’t see the light dusting of pink on Kunimi’s cheeks. They both had pride. Kunimi wouldn’t like the embarrassment of admitting to like someone. 

——————-

Kunimi stared at the laptop, as if it would give him answers. It didn’t, and Kunimi thought (a very bland, blunt thought) _'well, fuck me.'_

Kindaichi’s footsteps came closer and closer, until it reached the edge of the bed. “Coffee, Akira.”

Kunimi took it and sipped. He could almost see Kindaichi’s smile in his head—his back was turned to Kindaichi—as he drank. 

Kindaichi was so happy at the smallest of things. Like a puppy, he liked and loved, and did things one-hundred percent unconditionally, without any expectations of the other person. Kunimi, back in middle school, didn’t like how that trait made Kindaichi a pushover. But he got to know Kindaichi more. Kunimi learnt that Kindaichi was just...nice. And, once they kicked Kageyama out, there was the realization that Kindaichi was _nice,_ but not a _pushover._

It was a slap in the face to Kunimi’s previous thought that nice=pushover. But Kindaichi’s trait was something that people were going to take advantage of—that was for sure—and so Kunimi stayed. And then there were more reasons to stay.

And, somehow, Kunimi got here. 

Despite the fact that Kindaichi’s trait was something that people took advantage of, Kunimi liked it a lot. Kindaichi didn’t ask more things from Kunimi, and it was understood that Kunimi would pay him back in emotional support and company. 

If there was anything that Kunimi hated, it was expectations. Ones to be more affectionate, or more emotive, or more _anything._ And yet Kindaichi did all this stuff—the tiny things like getting coffee, or making breakfast—and never gave pressure. Never. 

It was appreciated, to say the least. Maybe other people would have used better, more grandiose words, but Kunimi had a sense of pride. He wasn’t going to expose more emotion than he had to.

(And it was embarrassing. How did romantic people just...show emotion so easily?)

Before he knew it, he had chugged the entirety of his coffee down, and  still had nothing written down. Sure, there were ideas written down, but he wanted to write about none of them. All of them were too embarrassing to give to other people.

And one idea was...too personal.

“Oh, I’ll refill your mug. And mine too!” And without any asking, Kindaichi took the mug and went to refill it. Then, he ran back to the door. “By the way, get ready for our lunch date later, okay?”

Kunimi gave a nod, and, with a smile, Kindaichi left.

Kunimi was left staring at his laptop. One would think that one hundred-something words would be easy to write down. No. No, it wasn’t.

Kunimi liked to keep his poems short, to keep him from losing a shit ton of motivation as time went on. This made the only hard part of writing, for him, getting ideas and actually getting started. Once he got started, he could finish the poem—final draft and all—in less than an hour.

Sure, there was pressure to make the few words he  did write good, but Kunimi never cared about that. Writing was a hobby; nothing more.

Nonetheless, he could feel a bit of annoyance. He should just pick something, just to get this done and get Kindaichi to be happy. He should be doing that. But he couldn’t figure out which topic was the least embarrassing to reveal to stupid, fancy-ass contest judges, and it was getting tiring.

Kunimi was on his stomach on the bed, head in his hands. God, just let sleep come to him.

Then, he noticed Kindaichi’s laptop was open next to his, sitting on top of a ball of blankets, at a much higher brightness. Convenient procrastination tool. There was a word document open, titled “Happiness”, and there was about two pages done. ' _Good for Yuutarou,'_ Kunimi thought, both a little bitter that he couldn’t even  start and happy for Kindaichi.

 _‘What could Yuutarou be writing about?’_ That stray thought came to him, and he pushed the laptop down from the ball of blankets. Now that it was flat on the bed, he went to the very top of the page. _‘What could be so personal that Yuutarou finds it hard to write about?’_

After all, Kindaichi didn’t have shame when it came to the things that made him happy. Why would it be hard to write this, then?

He had the vague sense that maybe he shouldn’t read this—that it was a invasion of privacy—but curiosity wished to know more, and Kindaichi  did say 24/7, _“Read my work! It’s fine, if it’s you.”_ Kindaichi said that with full knowledge that Kunimi would criticize the hell out of his work—no holding back—so reading something like this shouldn’t be so bad. Besides, Kindaichi had lost the ability to be mad at Kunimi years ago.

At least, that was how Kunimi justified it.

He read his name, and Kunimi had to blink. Huh. Kindaichi decided to write about _him_ , of all people. Then again, Kindaichi had no shame in these sort of things, unlike Kunimi. Kunimi wouldn’t even _try,_ out of sheer embarrassment of ‘how did I allow myself to get this attached to another person’.

(Kunimi did  _not _wonder if that made him a bad person. Kindaichi had told him again and again that he was okay with not doing PDA, that Kunimi shouldn’t be uncomfortable in any way, shape, or form. It would be stupid to think that Kunimi was embarrassed of _Kindaichi._ No, he was embarrassed of his own  _feelings _for Kindaichi. Kunimi had to tell himself that, or else he would be questioning his validity as a boyfriend much longer than he needed to.)

He read through it. 

“I still can’t believe I got the first date with him, and it has been five years.  Five years. I can still remember, with absolute certainty, that he said, ‘Please take good care of me...Yuutarou.’ Akira said that looking down at his shoes as if they were the most interesting things in the world. 

“I still remember how happy I was—on cloud nine—and how cute I thought he was, and how much I felt I could die happy on the spot. Even now, having lived with him for two years , I still feel overwhelmed, with happiness beyond measure. [is this a good sentence? Change later.]”

Kunimi smiled—just at the corner of his mouth—reading that note to self. Ah, how Kindaichi  _loved _writing notes on what to fix.

He did his best to ignore a certain feeling in his chest, one that wouldn’t go away. One that he would rather not name. 

Damn emotions. 

“To be honest, I still feel love unlike everything in this world. But, unlike the first year or so, I have a more mature level of happiness now. Everything isn’t new or exciting anymore...but the little things are interesting, and I realized that those little things are what I want to see. It doesn’t matter if the kisses don’t make me have butterflies; I still want Akira’s kisses, and  only Akira’s kisses. They still make me happy, but in a more subtle, less overwhelming way. It doesn’t matter that things aren’t exciting. No, I think the best thing about love is the fact you get used to the other person, but you never take it for granted. [Remove you]

“I can’t describe the warmth I get whenever I see Akira’s eyelashes, which look like delicate cherry blossom branches, or feel his fingers go into mine—not perfect, considering our hand difference, but still perfectly imperfect. [ :D ] Making breakfast for him, or waking him up, or scolding him fondly is a pleasure, and Kunimi Akira gives me support in return. Is this cheesy? Yes. Very much so. But then again, as Akira would say, ‘Love makes you stupid.’

“I wouldn’t mind being stupid, if it means Akira is with me.”

Kunimi read through the entire thing. It didn’t take long—Kindaichi’s contest required less than 1500 words—and it all repeated the same thing: how much Kunimi was important, and beautiful, and _wonderful--_

Kunimi touched his face, near his eyelids. There was nothing, but then one, single tear ran down his cheek. One single tear. He let the wetness lie on his cheek, and then wiped it away as if it had never been there.

He still hadn’t read the last paragraph. Kunimi read through it—another basic recap of how their relationship evolved from an exciting one to a mature, silent one. He saw the final sentence. A note.

“[after proposal—hopefully I’ll get a good answer!—add the last few paragraphs!]”

His heart stopped. 

Kunimi wasn’t sure what facial expression he had—probably a bland one, considering the fact that his face never changed. His fingers clenched the blankets with a certain force though, and he could feel the trembling of his arms.

Fuck embarrassment. Fuck his sense of pride. Fuck the future judges that were going to look at his work. Kunimi took his laptop, booted it up, and started typing at the fastest speed known to man.

“Hey, Akira?” Kindaichi yelled from the kitchen. “I’m just going to make some noddles for the both of us!”

Kunimi knew he didn’t have to say anything to that—Kindaichi learnt that silence meant ’okay’ a  _long _time ago.  He kept on typing.

——————

Kindaichi pushed open the door with his foot, making sure the plates of noodles in his hands didn’t fall. 

The first thing he noticed: Kunimi’s laptop was open, and the poem looked done. Kindaichi would have asked to read it, but then he noticed a second thing: Kunimi staring at Kindaichi’s laptop and _oh shit oh shit--_

“Hey, Akira?” Kindaichi said, trying to sound casual. He put the plates down on the bed, and sat down. Kunimi still stared at the computer, and Kindaichi wasn’t sure if it was a good stare or a bad stare. Kindaichi was never good at reading people’s faces. “Akira, can you not read that?”

He then saw where Kunimi was. The very last page, where his last note was on display for all to see.

_ Oh shit— _

“Akira! I’m so sorry you read that!” Kindaichi knew about the sorry rule, but  god damn  he was _actually_ sorry this time—“Akira, I know it’s a big step and that I didn’t talk too much with you about it and if we did get married we’ll have a private wedding but that’s only if you accept of course and—“

Kunimi took Kindaichi’s hand. Held it. He plucked at the tense fingers until they were loose. He turned around to face Kindaichi, his gaze fixed on Kindaichi’s hands. “Why would you feel sorry about something that was my decision to read?"

“I just...I didn’t want you to read it before—I mean, I wanted to do the proposal at the date. That was my plan,” Kindaichi said. There was awe, a sort of amazement in his eyes. Kunimi was being so...gentle.

Kindaichi knew that Kunimi needed to consider every single thing before doing something. He knew for a fact that Kunimi loved him—Kunimi stayed with him all of middle and high school, as well as college and beyond, for a good reason—so Kunimi wouldn’t reject him for lack of love. No, it would be for finances. Or pressure. Or a wish for things to stay as they are.

Kunimi didn’t comment on any of that. He kept loosening Kindaichi’s fingers. “Could you stop tensing?”

Kindaichi did. Once the fingers were all nice and loose, Kunimi held both of Kindaichi’s hands in his. 

“Yes.”

“What?”

Kunimi kept looking down at his knees, or Kindaichi’s knee, or anywhere but Kindaichi’s face, all with his usual bored look. Kindaichi would have pointed out that Kunimi’s ears were pinker, but he was too enchanted at the fact that _ Kunimi Akira was blushing. _ “...Yes, I’ll marry you.”

“Really?” Kindaichi couldn’t help the first thing that came out of his mouth. Kunimi did that weird half-smile, that wasn’t even a smile at all, that made Kindaichi a little anxious. “But there are a lot of stuff like finances and privacy and I didn’t even propose and—“

Kunimi put a finger up. A sign he wanted to say something. So Kindaichi shut his mouth. “I had time. To think about it.” A pause. “Look at us.”

Kunimi turned his body to the edge of the bed, dropping one of Kindaichi’s hands but keeping the other. “We live together. We’ve known each other since middle school, and are now in our mid-twenties. I pay half the rent for—technically—your apartment, we literally have the most domestic life on the planet, we do bills together, and cook for each other, and do all of this...stuff for each other.” Kunimi paused, probably thinking on how cheesy all of it was. Kindaichi could understand why. Kunimi was never the type to be (intentionally) romantic. “At this point, we’re married...just not  officially.”

Kunimi said all of that in his usual, matter-of-fact tone. But there was no bite. Sarcasm, but no bite. And there was still some pink left in his cheeks. His thumb went in circles on top of Kindaichi’s fingers.

Kindaichi had the vague feeling that this... talk wasn’t what was supposed to happen. But then again, this was Kunimi. Kunimi was the unexpected. To Kindaichi, at least.

“Considering all of that...I would marry you.” Kunimi turned back to Kindaichi, his face calm, composed. But he had a smile. A tiny one, but still a smile. “Though you were too cheesy in your writing. And you really should have talked it over with me a little more.”

Kindaichi hugged him. Right there and then. Maybe it was impulsive or some crap, but emotion had to be let out somehow. Might as well have Kunimi be the victim.

After his shock stopped, Kunimi hugged him back. Then took Kindaichi’s head in his hands. Held it with a sweet carefulness. His next words were said with a soft sternness. “What in the world made you think I was going to... reject you?”

“Hey!  My worries were valid!”

Kunimi was quiet, considering. “Yes, they were. Sorry.”

"Hey. It’s okay.” Kindaichi ran his hand up and down Kunimi’s back—in the way he likes—and smiled. Kunimi hid his face in Kindaichi’s shoulder, as planned. Ah, it was cute when he was embarrassed. “And...you really do love me, do you?”

A pause, and then a nod. An embarrassed nod, if Kunimi digging his face into Kindaichi’s shoulder was any indication. Kindaichi, in happiness, hugged him even harder, rocking the both of them back and forth. There was a grumble from Kunimi about how he needed air, but he was hugging back. 

Perhaps Kindaichi had a slow reaction time, but the fact that this had happened—that Kunimi had accepted him as his fiancé, and that they were getting married _holy shitty Jesus_ —had sunken in at that moment. He was getting married. To Kunimi Akira. The guy that had been with him. Since middle school.

And now, forever.

“We’re getting married.” Kindaichi repeated it back to himself. “God, we’re getting married.”

“No shit, Yuutarou.”

Kindaichi started laughing, out of sheer happiness. “Can I just make sure? Just...do a proper proposal?”

“You’ve already confessed your love. Not sure now you’re going to make it better.”

“I’ll make it better. I promise.” Kindaichi unstuck Kunimi’s face from his shoulder, holding his face in his hands. _'Akira has such pretty lashes,'_ “ And I got a ring? So—I mean—I’ll have to use it.“

Kunimi nodded. Unstuck his body from Kindaichi. Kindaichi ran as fast as he could to the closet, almost threw the lid of the shoebox out the window in his haste, and got the ring box back to Kunimi.

He did a proper proposal. And if Kunimi’s pretty brown eyes welled up with tears, Kindaichi wasn’t going to say anything about it.

————-

“Was my writing good?” Kindaichi asked, a few hours later. The sun was setting, and it made their bedroom a warm orange-red. The both of them were buried in mountains of blankets, and were in the process of sending their writing to their respective contests.

Kunimi thought about it for a second, his eyes as blank as ever. His cheek was being cushioned on Kindaichi’s shoulder blade. “Not the best thing. Someone else would win.”

“...Yeah, procrastination can really suck away any time to make something good.” Kindaichi wasn’t fazed by the bluntness; he knew of Kunimi’s hatred for white lies and the like. “Was it good to _you?_ ”

Kunimi took a sip of coffee. “It was cheesy. So cheesy.”

“And did you like that? Come on Akira. Give me something.”

Kunimi took Kindaichi’s hand. Ran his thumb over a new silver ring. It was real. It didn’t feel real, that he was going to be married. Somehow. Both he and Kindaichi decided to not plan until next week, to let their emotions sink in. “...Yes. But it was still ridiculous.”

“I wouldn’t be Yuutarou without a little ridiculousness.” Kindaichi smiled, and then offered a place on his lap. Bastard. He knew Kunimi would want him more, and he just  had to be so _beautiful_ for no particular reason.

Kunimi sat. He wasn’t embarrassed though; he was still riding high on the ‘fuck it’ train, made from the fact that  of course Kindaichi had to be so _honest_ when confessing his feelings. Kindaichi  had to be _so_ honest, and, now, Kunimi was giving no fucks about being in this sort of position. Because Kindaichi was Kindaichi.  _Because Yuutarou was Yuutarou._

It was a tight fit, but Kunimi’s laptop managed to fit under Kindaichi’s frame. Good. December was being more and more of a bitch every single year, and the only good thing that came out of it was being able to be near Kindaichi more. 

Kindaichi glanced down at Kunimi’s laptop. “What did you write for your thing?”

“Nothing.” It wasn’t  nothing . Not that Kunimi would ever say it out loud. He needed his privacy. “Just something that fits the prompt.”

“Good job!” Kindaichi put his head on top of Kunimi’s. Kunimi knew he was smiling. “Thanks for doing the contest for me. I’ll admit that it was kinda out of no where.”

“It’s fine. It’s done now.” 

“I’m proud of you.”

“...I know.” Kindaichi was the only person, in Kunimi’s opinion, who could say that sort of thing  so much  one-hundred percent honestly.

“Glad to know.” Kindaichi buried his face into Kunimi’s neck. It wasn’t a bad feeling. Then he started kissing it, which also wasn’t a bad feeling. “This okay?

Kunimi nodded, and adjusted his neck for a better angle.

“By the way, Akira, can I see what you wrote?"

“No."

“Aww.” Kindaichi took to wrapping his arms around Kunimi’s frame. “Will I ever see what you wrote?”

Kunimi thought about it. Though it was a little difficult with the lips that were now sucking his neck. “On our wedding day.”

“That reminds me!” Kindaichi should  _not _sound so cheerful when he made Kunimi feel a little  _too _pleasured. “About the honeymoon...you know how it’s tradition to—you know—“

“You could say sex, Yuutarou.”

“Yeah, but you know...are you okay with it or...?”

“It’ll depend on my mood.” Kunimi had to suck a breath in when Kindaichi sucked on a particularly sweet spot. Kunimi gave the nod to continue. “So, I’ll tell you if I want it or not then.”

“Good.” Kindaichi kept sucking on that sweet spot, and Kunimi had to go put his laptop down. He wasn’t able to concentrate. Kindaichi also kicked away his own laptop. “Can I kiss you?”

A nod. A slow kiss followed, with a tenderness Kunimi couldn’t name in the tips of Kindaichi’s fingers. They cradled his face like it was glass, and Kunimi didn’t want that. No, he wanted them to hold him like he was a precious object, but one that was to be loved _fiercely_.

Kunimi held onto the back of Kindaichi’s head. The kiss went from slow and lazy and loving to fierce and fast. Kindaichi became a mess, his hair all messy and flying everywhere, and Kunimi wouldn’t want to think of what  _he _looked like.

Kindaichi pulled at the edge of Kunimi’s shirt. He nodded, and Kindaichi began caressing milk-white skin with his hand. The heat from Kindaichi, _Yuutarou,_ was a brand to Kunimi’s ice-cold skin, sending shivers up his spine. Kunimi began tugging on Kindaichi’s hair to get it into his head that he was loved. There was a moan in response.

“Yuutarou...”

He was pushed onto the bed, spread out. Kindaichi started saying something about being sorry—he really wasn’t—and not meaning it, and Kunimi shut him up.

As all of himself became undone, Kunimi had to think. Would he ever give Kindaichi his poem? Maybe. Maybe not. It was so utterly cheesy and emotional and so unlike him that Kunimi would die of embarrassment if anyone were to read it, knowing him.

But then again, this was Kindaichi. This was  _Yuutarou_ _._ Kunimi’s heart always made exceptions for that man. 

Well, it didn’t matter. He could think about the poem later. Now, his new fiancé was beautiful, and needed some loving.

———-

_ When I wake and see a face, _

_ One with sharp cheekbones and a permanent smile and warm cheeks like the sun, _

_ There is a certain fire within my cold heart. _

_ My cold heart _

_ Always so frozen solid  _

_ Is understood by that face, _

_ That man. _

_ His hands that make breakfast _

_ Or finds mine _

_ Or brings me a cup of coffee in the mornings _

_ Are saviors. _

_ They melt _

_ Bit by bit, piece by piece, _

_ Until a smile comes from my face, _

_ Or a small declaration of love happens, _

_ Like me bringing coffee for once _

_ Or being an anchor, _

_ For when the sun wonders if it can be swallowed up by darkness. _

_ He is fire and I am ice, _

_ two opposites, _

_ The first energetic and the latter not, _

_ The first kind and the latter not. _

_ Nonetheless, despite these opposites, _

_ We have have been with each other since the beginning of time. _

_ Or at least, a very long time. _

_ Enough that if one was missing, the other wouldn’t be at their best. _

_ I want to be with him forever. Because of that. _

_ Being ice, I shouldn’t say that to someone who could melt me. _

_ But then again, when I become water, am I becoming something inferior? _

_ Is it bad to be as warm as the person I admire? _

_ I love and love already. It is not bad to be warm. _

_ So let me be water.  _

_ Still so very different from my love, _

_ But more touchable, _

_ And more loving  _

_ To the man that already has all of me _

_ And who deserves the world, the universe. _

**Author's Note:**

> Do you like it? Please comment! Or maybe check out my other fic? ;)


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